“I know… and you deserve it. You deserve it so, so much.”
She raises herself slightly. I feel her warmth hovering just above my cock, a promise suspended between us. Then she lowers her mouth to mine, kissing me with such tender ferocity that I nearly come undone right there.
In one fluid, uncertain motion, she sinks down onto me, her body taking me in inch by inch, her breath catching witheach small descent. Her face tightens with a crease between her brows, lips parting around a soft, broken sound that sits somewhere between pain and want. I feel every centimeter of her heat closing around me, the unbearable slowness of it pulling a gasp from my throat that I press against her lips.
My hands find her hips and grip hard, fingers pressing into her skin. The brief, distant thought that I might bruise her only makes me hold tighter.
“Guide me…” she whispers, pleading breathily.
“Fuck,” I breathe, my forehead pressed against hers as she begins to move with my hands helping her.
Her rhythm is intentional, achingly slow, each rise and fall of her body sending waves of pleasure crashing through me. Water spills over the edge of the tub and the bathroom floor could flood, I wouldn’t care.
I could live inside her, her warmth, how tight she is around me. Her body rising and falling on mine, our connection so much deeper than physical and while she’s hesitant to roll her hips, there's something unbearably erotic about guiding her, teaching her, watching her discover what brings her pleasure and me being the one to experience it with her.
“Like this,” I whisper, my hands on her waist, showing her how to grind forward slightly at the bottom of each stroke. I feel a satisfaction surge through me when she follows my lead and gasps in a soft moan, her eyes flying wide with surprise.
“Are you so full of my cock, baby?” I murmur against her and cup her face, thumb brushing across her cheekbone as I thrust up into her, and she rides me harder, faster.
“Liam,” she gasps, “I'm close—I can't—”
Helping her chase her release, I cup one of her breasts and bring it my mouth, lapping my tongue around her nipple. “You’re doing so good my beautiful girl,” I tell her.
Her eyes flutter closed, her head falling back, her hair cascading down her back as her movements become more erratic.
“I've got you,” I whisper, watching her face contort with pleasure. “Let go for me, Sara.”
When she shatters, I'm right there with her. Her arms wrap around my neck, clinging to me as if I'm her lifeline and waves of pleasure crash through us both. Her grip tightens around me, almost suffocating, and she cries out against my shoulder, her entire body trembling. My own release hits me like a freight train, pulsing inside her as I grip her hips and pull her down one last time hard against me. Her name tears from my throat in a hoarse shout that echoes off the bathroom tiles. For a moment, we're suspended in perfect, breathless unity as her walls clench around me, drawing out every drop I empty inside her.
I pant against her neck, my heart hammering so hard I think it might crack my ribs.
“Fuck, baby.” I chuckle.
She collapses against me, completely spent, her body going slack in my arms. I cradle her to me, pressing reverent kisses to her temple, her cheekbone, the corner of her mouth. My lips trace the delicate line of her jaw, down the column of her throat, across her shoulders. I can't stop touching her, tasting her, worshiping every inch of her.
I feel her smile against my skin, the curve of her lips pressed to my shoulder, “We should get out before we turn into prunes,” I murmur against her temple, feeling her small laugh vibrate through her body in my arms.
“Mmm, okay.” She hums, making no effort to move.
I grin at her reluctance to go and press one last kiss to her forehead before lifting us both from the cooling water. She shivers as the air hits her wet skin, and I quickly reach for theplush towel hanging nearby. With gentle movements, I wrap it around her slender frame.
“Come here, my beautiful.” I lift her into my arms again and carry her to the bedroom. She feels perfect, her damp head nestling against my chest.
“Am I sleeping on the couch since I don’t have abedanymore?” She laughs softly against my skin as we move toward my bedroom.
“The fuck you are,” I say with unmistakable dominance.
My bedroom is bathed in soft evening light, shadows stretching across the unmade bed, Fiasco sleeping in a ball of fur on the bottom corner.
I set her down, watching as she throws the towel to the floor, her movements slow and languid with exhaustion. Her hair fans out in dark, wet tendrils across my pillow, and all I want is to protect her, sleep beside her naked body. I pull on a pair of boxers and climb into bed, gathering her into my arms. Her body curves against mine perfectly, and we lie in comfortable silence as her breathing grows steadier against my chest. I trace lazy patterns on her skin, memorizing the feel of her under my fingertips.
“I should have found you sooner,” I murmur against her hair, not sure if she's still awake.
She stirs against me, humming contentedly. “You found me,” she whispers, her voice thick with approaching sleep.
I trace my finger along the curve of her jaw, torn between wanting to preserve this moment and needing answers. “Tomorrow,” I say finally, my voice low and firm. “We're going to talk about how the fuck you got on that boat.”
Her body tenses against mine. She freezes for a second and takes my hand to her chest, holding it right over her heart. I can feel its rhythm, steady and strong beneath my palm, as her eyes drift shut, and she peacefully falls asleep.
